


either fuck you or i'm sorry

by orphan_account



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Break Up, Richard is bad at emotions, and hates himself for it, and vomits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I mean, you have to know I’d still do anything for you, Richard. If you asked.”Richard does not ask. Does not even knowhowto ask, really.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	either fuck you or i'm sorry

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil note that this fic involves a heavily self-loathing richard, and that may potentially be triggering to some, please take care of yourselves!

Of course, it’s only after he fucks it all up that Richard realizes he was in love the whole time.

#

Richard thinks he was the one to initiate things. It’s hazy now. In his memory. But the parts he remembers— 

It was a late night at the office. There was a lot of those back then, and now he wonders whether sometimes they weren’t just making up tasks for this exact purpose. To end up here. Sitting knee-to-knee behind Richard’s desk, looking at the glowing light of his computer screen, all too aware of the other’s proximity. Now that he thinks of it, he thinks it’s ridiculous that it hadn’t all happened so much sooner. 

Those late nights had been going on for months. The sexual and romantic tension between them had been building for— well, maybe years at that point. So, really, Richard reasons now— as he did that first night— it was only a matter of time. It was going to happen one way or another. (And he was going to fuck it up one way or another. Because he’s Richard.) 

He remembers Jared’s lips, pliant, when he, Richard, leaned in. And he remembers the couch in his office. He remembers knees bumping, and Jared being too tall, really, for the couch, and then both of them laughing at how ridiculous that was. Laughing and kissing and— 

Jared asking “Is this okay?” like fifty times too many, but rather than finding it annoying, Richard found it endearing, found his heart expanding at Jared’s voice, at the sight of Jared.

And then there was Jared’s mouth— those pliant lips— around him. And his own fucking gasping and moaning. He hated to hear the echoes ricocheting against the ceiling. It made him self-conscious, disgusted with himself and with— Was Jared disgusted now that he had seen this? Heard this? But Jared only continued to coax more noise out of him, encouraging him to keep gasping, keep moaning, keep— 

Feeling something. Well. Too much really. He remembers _feeling_ so— feeling— 

At the time he thought, _Maybe there is a God._ Which was a ridiculous thought to have. But the whole night felt like a revelation. He could see clearly for the first time. And afterward, when he remembered these revelations, he was afraid. Good things don’t just _happen_ to Richard. And even more rarely do they last. 

And Jared was better than a good thing.

He’s not sure why he’s thinking about this now. Except to punish himself maybe. 

#

“It’s going to be another late night,” Richard says, with a sigh.

“Actually,” Jared says, “I can’t really stay in the office later than six o’clock tonight.”

Even in the three months since it all ended, Jared has never turned down doing what’s best for the company. Never turned down late nights. (Now, in his own office. Now, with the door closed. Impossibly far from Richard.) He’s saved from being the one to ask why.

“You? Turning down working late?” Dinesh says. 

Jared laughs a little. And then he looks toward the ground, and says, “I mean. Normally I would, but I have a date.” 

Richard’s ears ring and he’s not entirely sure what else is said in the next moments. And it’s. Well. Richard doesn’t know how he _should_ feel about this news. But he’s Richard, so of course, the anger gremlin that lives inside his chest cavity decides to wake up. He can feel the others’ eyes on him. Dinesh and Gilfoyle. And now Jared, finally, looking at him. Finally. And his eyes are so fucking— It just makes Richard even angrier, feeding that stupid anger gremlin. And anyway—

Anyway. 

“Okay,” he says, “have fun. I guess.” Even he can hear it in his voice. The jealousy.

He really does hate himself.

“Richard,” Jared says, and his voice. His voice. That used to say his name like a desperate prayer. Pleading. This time Jared is not pleading. Not asking for permission. Or even forgiveness. It’s— pitying. And what the hell does Jared think he’s doing pitying Richard? When Richard was the one who— who— 

“What?” Richard asks, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to make it seem like he doesn’t care because— well, because he does care. Far too much. He cares so fucking much it hurts, and maybe he deserves to be hurt, but he still hates it.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle are so quiet, and Richard almost wants to ask them to leave. That they should see him like this, knowing what they do, is so embarrassing. But of course, Richard is embarrassing. He’s an embarrassing excuse for a human being. And maybe that’s why Jared— why he— 

“I don’t want things to be awkward,” Jared says. “I mean it’s been three months since we—” 

“What?” Richard says, and is his voice a squeak, or is he imagining it? “Awkward? Why would it be awkward? It’s cool. Everything’s fine. Totally normal.”

Jared has a worried look in his eye. A concerned look. One that, before he fucked it all up, Richard would have welcomed. One that would have been followed by Jared’s arms around him. One that was always followed by reassuring him that everything would be okay. And somehow the thought of that now is what does it. It tips him over the edge. Because it’s not okay. It won’t be okay. Jared is— has moved on. 

Three months. That’s all the time it takes to get over Richard Hendricks, apparently.

Richard loves to pick at scabs, so he says, “Anyway. I’m the one who didn’t want you. Remember?” 

Jared, so subtle it’s almost imperceptible, flinches. And Richard hates himself a little bit more. They all, in that room, hate him a little bit more. He’s sure of it. He can feel Dinesh and Gilfoyle’s disgust with his behavior radiating off them. When Jared isn’t around to hear it (for Jared’s sake, not his, never his) they will call him an asshole. Or Gilfoyle will call him something more creative but just as deserved.

#

Kissing Jared was like feeling the warm spring sun on your face after a particularly cold winter. 

Richard had never imagined he would be a romantic. He always assumed if he ever fell in love it would be like wearing a soft sweater in autumn. Comfortable, easy, nondescript. But Jared was the sun, was spring and summer. And rather than wanting to put on more layers, Richard found himself wanting to take them all off. 

He had agreed to go birding with Jared. Not that he knew the first thing about birds, or gave a single shit about the birds, but Jared did, and he gave all the fucks in the world about Jared. So he could care about birds for a single afternoon. 

And then Jared kissed him. Outside. It felt like Jared was taking a stand. A statement to the universe itself. And no one was around to see— because when Jared had tried to kiss him in public once, Richard had recoiled— but still it felt. Too much. 

He realized, even as Jared’s lips were on his, that Jared deserved someone who wasn’t afraid of the world. Of the sun. Someone more than— better than— Richard. Jared deserved the entire universe.

And he knew, he knew, as Jared kissed him, as his own heart wanted to burst out it’s chest, that this was the last time. He needed to get out before it was too late. Before he was too in love with Jared to let him go, when he knew he deserved so much better. And he didn’t want Jared to pull away, ever, but he did and— 

His hands. His thumbs on Richard’s cheeks. 

And his voice. His voice. Saying, “Richard.” Saying, “Richard, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” His voice so kind and so— 

And Richard feeling so— 

And Richard’s own voice replying, “I can’t do this. With you. Anymore.” 

#

Jared does not bring up his date. Or the dates that follow. 

But over the weeks and months that stretch out, Richard feeling achingly alone, hears, through Dinesh and Gilfoyle, and through office gossip by the coffee machine, that Jared is officially taken. Is officially someone’s boyfriend.

Richard had never even gotten to call him that. They were _a thing._ A vague, shapeless, nameless thing. So Richard has no right to feel as jealous as he does. He has no right to wish to see Jared’s heart broken by whoever she is. And it is a she, which Richard tries to take in stride. If it were a man, then it would be like a slap in the face to Richard, and Richard would actually lose his shit and maybe walk through a window. Again. But it is a woman, and Jared deserves— that. Someone who can give him everything. The sun. A family. Jared seems like someone who would want that. Right? And Richard couldn’t— doesn’t even know if he _wants_ — 

He’d be a terrible father, really. Given that he’s a terrible— everything. The only thing he’s ever been good at is coding. And anxious over-thinking.

So. He tries. To be happy for Jared.

This is what he wanted, isn’t it? When he broke it off all those months ago. In springtime. For Jared to be with someone better than himself. Which, he realizes, isn’t a high bar at all. 

Still, if this is who Jared has chosen. And if he wants (selfishly) for Jared to remain in his life. As friends. As something. Then he wants to know. He wants to see with his own eyes that it was worth the sacrifice. He wants to meet her, maybe to prove something to Dinesh and Gilfoyle. To Jared. To himself. He can be civil. He can be an adult about this.

#

Jared invites her to a company party. Richard had insisted, which had taken Jared rather by surprise, though he eventually agreed.

They have rented out part of an upscale Italian kitchen-and-bar for the night. Others have brought plus ones, as well, but the majority of the Pied Piper team has come alone. And when Jared enters with _her_ holding onto his arm, Richard almost pukes on himself. On the table he’s sitting at. He has to stand up. He needs another drink.

When he sees the two of them headed in the same direction he turns around then remembers he wanted this. He literally asked for this. He turns around again, resolute, and heads to the bar. As he’s waiting for his drink, they spot him. 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared says, with a small grin. (Richard really cannot look at him right now. Not meet his eye fully. It’s too much.) “This is Jacqueline.”

Jacqueline and Jared.

It occurs to Richard that even their names sound better together than his and Jared’s. Silly of him, really to ever think he could— 

Jacqueline stands with perfect posture, even in sleek black high-heeled shoes. Her dress is skin-tight, but she still manages to look put-together in a way Richard could never manage and not only because he’s not a woman. And Jared seems to stand taller next to her. And the worst part of it is that when Jared introduces them her face brightens. Her eyes are the color of honey, and he’s sure his own grey-blue ones seem dull and common in comparison. He tries to return her smile, falters, coughs a little, and then offers a strained grin. 

“Jared has told me so much about you,” she says, “I hear you’re a genius.” 

There is no hint in her voice that Jared has told her anything else. He’s sure, if she knew, what he had— what he and Jared had— that she wouldn’t be grinning so brightly now. And why would Jared bother mentioning it anyway? He’s sure the whole thing between them is an embarrassing blip in Jared’s past he’d rather forget. Richard bites a nail, realizes that it’s disgusting a second too late, and pulls his hand away from his mouth. He hasn’t said anything, he realizes. 

“I— uh— I don’t know about _genius._ ” 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared says, “there’s no need to be modest. Besides,” he says and he looks to Jacqueline and Richard cannot stand it. Cannot take seeing Jared looking at her. Like that. “Jacqueline is somewhat of a genius herself. I think the two of you would really like each other.”

“O-oh,” Richard manages. He blinks a few times. Asks, not quite meeting Jacqueline’s gaze, “What is it you do?”

Is it hot in here? Or is it just him? He still wants to throw up.

“I’m at Stanford,” she says, “working on my Ph.D.” 

“Oh— in what?” Probably liberal arts something, Richard thinks, petty.

“Physics,” she says, and he’s been proven wrong.

And she is probably so much smarter than Richard. Why did Jared tell her that Richard is a genius? Why did he tell her about anything to do with Richard? Why did he omit all the shit that actually matters to Richard? It’s petty of him. He _wants_ Jacqueline to know. He wants to tell her, _I know what your boyfriend tastes like._ He wants to say, _Next time you kiss him, remember that his mouth has been on my cock._ He wants to see the look on her face. And he would say it too, if it weren’t for the familiar feeling inside of him. In his stomach. Making him wary of opening his mouth.

He cannot throw up now. Not in front of Jacqueline. Not on Jacqueline. He blinks, steadies himself by leaning his palms against the bar. Forces a long inhale and exhale through his lungs. “So— uh— how did you— how did you two—” he says, trying still to be polite even though he wants to pull her off of Jared. _His_ Jared. ( _You were the one who ended things,_ the less primitive part of his brain points out, _he is not yours_. Though it’s futile.)

“That’s actually kind of a funny story,” Jacqueline starts. Richard does not listen to whatever it is she says next. 

He wants to launch himself over the bar-top and away from them. He wants to be anywhere else right now. It is worse than he imagined. Or rather _she_ is _better_ than he imagined. She is so much better than him. 

This was a mistake. 

Jared says, “Richard, is everything okay?” 

Jacqueline stops talking abruptly. 

Everything is spinning. Richard turns and makes it approximately ten steps toward the bathroom before he can hold it in no longer, and he vomits. A lot.

And then he’s apologizing profusely to no one in particular and also everyone who saw that. For the vomit. For existing. 

He drags himself to the bathroom, licking his wounds. 

#

Jared never shied away from saying, “I love you,” to Richard. 

Before that night in his office on the couch it hadn’t really been a problem. It made him sort of uncomfortable. He always wanted to ask, “Do you know what you’re doing to me when you say that? Do you know how insane you make me?” But he never did because before that night, before Jared made him think there might be a God, he was sure Jared meant it in an innocent way.

After that, when Jared tried to say it, Richard would not let him finish. He knew, then, he was going to ruin this thing he had with Jared. He knew it. He always knew he would do something stupid and ruin everything, and Jared would be heartbroken, and Richard would realize he never deserved Jared’s love on any level at all. So he did not want to hear it. Even with that pained look Jared gave him when he tried.

They were laying on top of Jared’s sheets. The room smelled like latex, and lube, and sweat, and come. Richard had never really liked the smell of it with anyone else. Not that there were a lot of others. But Jared— Jared was different in so many ways. 

Jared swallowed, Richard could see the bob of his Adam’s apple. Richard wanted to kiss his throat, but he didn’t. Intimacy was never his strong suit. And the emotions were so much more overwhelming after he and Jared’s bodies brought each other to orgasm. Too overwhelming to let himself speak, or else he might say something stupid like— 

“Richard,” Jared said, “I lo—” 

“No,” Richard said. Closing his eyes briefly. “Please, Jared.” 

And Jared had nodded, eyes wide. Those blue eyes showing everything he was feeling, and then he’d looked away. And Richard thought, _Fuck._

#

He is looking at himself in the mirror. His shirt is in one sink, his pants in another. 

As he stares at his reflection, his pathetic reflection, he can’t help but notice— _Wrong. Everything about you is wrong._ He can’t even— can’t even act like a normal fucking person for one night. And he looks fucking terrible. Not just from having vomited. Is he still shrinking? Jacqueline probably isn’t shrinking. She probably eats health food and drinks Kombucha and does fucking yoga or some shit. Richard, meanwhile, sits with the posture of Quasimodo at a fucking computer all day.

The door to the mens’ bathroom creaks open. And then there’s Jared. “Richard,” he says, “Are you— Oh.”

“What do you want,” Richard replies, looking away from him, away from the fucking mirror. He walks to the wall, slides his back down the cold tile to sit on the floor, and looks at his feet.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Jared says, “But clearly—” 

“Why do you care?” Richard asks. He scoffs. “Just go, Jared. We both know you don’t want to be in here with me. Jacqueline’s probably waiting for you.” 

Jared does not go. He stays. He stays, and somehow this makes Richard feel even worse. Jared sits criss-cross-apple-sauce on the bathroom floor. In front of Richard. Who does not deserve this kindness. And they both know it. He could still change his mind. He could still turn around and leave. Richard bites at his cuticles, looks anywhere but at Jared.

“Richard,” he says, “Can I be candid?”

 _No,_ he thinks. But he can’t trust himself with words, so he shrugs, and Jared takes it as a yes. 

“I’m confused. I thought— I mean, it seemed like you wanted to meet Jacqueline. And if I’m being honest I found that a bit confusing on it’s own, but now it seems like maybe— Should I not have invited her?” 

Richard blinks, still not looking at Jared. “I don’t fucking care about Jacqueline, Jared.” 

“Right,” Jared says, not sounding convinced, “but—” He pauses. And for a moment he’s silent, and Richard thinks he’s done. He’ll stand up and he’ll leave. He’ll leave and go back out there. To her. He will leave Richard, and Richard will be okay with that. He’ll have to be okay with that. It would be hypocritical to not be okay with that. He would leave himself if he could. 

“Richard,” Jared says, “Please, just tell me what’s going on. I want to help.” 

“Stop,” Richard says, “stop trying to help. I don’t. I don’t deserve that. You need to— just— just go.” 

“Oh,” Jared says, “Richard.” 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he says, “Fuck you,” but it has no bite or anger. He just sounds so fucking pathetic. And Jared must hate him as much as he hates himself. Must also think he’s pathetic. Must think he’s a horrible, jealous, reckless child because he can’t let Jared just be happy with someone else without vomiting all over the place.

And then Jared is reaching out. And his hands. His hands are taking Richard’s, pulling them gently away from where he’s gnawing at them. Richard tastes salt. When did he start crying? Why is he crying in front of Jared? And Why is Jared still here when he wants to be somewhere else. With someone else. 

They sit like this. Richard, stupid and crying. Jared holding both his hands with a touch so tender that Richard wishes he had told him when he had the chance. Wishes he had said _I love you_. But he can’t say it now, so he doesn’t. 

Eventually, there is a knock on the door. And a woman’s voice calling, “Jared? Is everything okay?” 

And Jared calls back, “Yeah, just— give us a minute.” 

He meets Richard’s eyes. Opens his mouth. 

“It’s okay,” Richard says, nodding. “It’s okay. You can— I’ll be okay.”

Jared presses his lips together. And his eyes. His eyes look to the door, look back to Richard. Richard tries to look as okay as someone crying on the bathroom floor of an Italian restaurant can look. 

Jared says, “I—” and then stops short, brow furrowed. “Okay,” he says after a long moment, “if you need anything though— I mean, you have to know I’d still do anything for you, Richard. If you asked.” 

Richard does not ask. Does not even know _how_ to ask, really.

So Jared leaves. Just like Richard knew he would. 

#

He tries his best to avoid Jared after that horrible display of bathroom emotions. It helps that it’s almost the end of the financial year, so Jared is busier than usual, being the head of the business side of things. Still, this cannot last forever. He realizes that avoiding his COO is not very sustainable to the business. And Jared, he’s sure, realizes this too. 

After most of their employees have left for the day, after it’s dark outside and the office lighting washes everything out, Jared enters Richard’s office. Richard’s heart goes haywire. He might be having a heart attack. He almost wishes he were.

“Are you busy?” Jared asks. 

And Richard’s brain stupidly supplies, _Never too busy for you._ He says, “No.” He tries to sound casual. But his voice cracks. 

Jared, mercifully, doesn’t say anything about it. He pulls Richard’s office door closed behind him. Licks his lips. “I know,” he starts, “that doing this in the office probably isn’t prudent—” 

“Ironic,” Richard says, “considering what we _have_ done in the office.” 

He regrets the words almost immediately. Jared winces. Richard hates himself.

“Well,” Jared says, recovering, “I guess that is a decent enough segue.” Rather than taking a seat across from Richard’s desk, he looms over it. 

Richard has a momentary sense of déjà vu. Of being in the hostel, in his bedroom coding. Of Jared standing over him. He wonders if back then— if he was in love with Jared even back then? He wouldn’t doubt that he was too dense to realize it. He was too dense to realize it even when he had Jared. Even when Jared kissed him and it felt like sun on his face in springtime. So.

“I broke it off,” Jared says, pulling Richard out of his introspection.

Richard says, “What?” 

“With Jacqueline.” 

Richard takes a slow breath. Trying so hard not to get ahead of himself but. Jared is in his office, and they are alone, and Jared is telling him that he broke it off with Jacqueline. Jacqueline who, objectively, is way better than Richard. And he’s—

“Um. Why? Why are you— telling me?” Richard asks. 

Jared tilts his head. Considers Richard for a moment. “I thought you might want to know.” 

“Why would I— I don’t— what difference would it make to me?” 

Jared sighs. Now he sits. And Richard can breathe a little easier without this giant that he is agonizingly in love with looming over him and studying him like an entomologist might study a beetle. 

“Richard,” he says. His voice is soft. Sad, almost. And Richard cannot bear to hear Jared sad. Jared, who is the goddamn sun, should never have a reason to be sad. And here he is, sitting across from Richard, saying his name and it sounds like a lament. “Richard.” 

“Jared,” Richard says back. Too stupid to know what else to do. 

“If I ask you something,” Jared says, “will you answer honestly?” 

Richard says neither yes nor no. 

“Why did you leave me?”

Richard has to look away from Jared. From his eyes. From his blue, blue, blue eyes. It is all too much. “I don’t— I don’t know what you want me to say, Jared.” 

“I want the truth,” Jared replies. “You’ve been sending me mixed signals ever since. And even before then it was— things were going so well and you just— you just abandoned me like some unwanted pet out of nowhere.” Jared pauses. Sighs. “You know, Richard,” he says, “I’ve been treated like shit by a lot of people throughout my life. Including you sometimes. But I just— I loved you so much, Richard. So much.” 

“But you were fine. After. You had— you had Jacqueline,” Richard says, “and—” 

“I was waiting. Didn’t you know? For three months, I waited for you to tell me why you left, and— okay I was hoping maybe— maybe you would want me. Again. But then you just didn’t. And I figured it was time to try to move on from you, because I love you Richard, I really do, but you didn’t want me anymore. And then just as I thought I could move on, could be—” He shakes his head. Lets out a strangled sound. “What did I ever do wrong? I only ever wanted to be allowed to love you, Richard. I just— I need to know why that wasn’t enough.” 

“Enough?” Richard asks. “No. It wasn’t— If anything it was— it was too much.” 

The words come out wrong. But Jared nods, like he expected this answer, and he won’t meet Richard’s gaze. And Richard wants to scream. Throw something. 

“It was all too much. You made me feel too much. All the time. You were much more than I deserved. And like,” Richard says, “I was. I was going to hurt you. Or disappoint you. And I didn’t want you to realize too late that I’m just— this. Ugly, jealous, hunchback person controlled by an anger gremlin. And I couldn’t give you what I wanted to.”

Jared says, matter-of-fact, “Richard, you’re not ugly. Or a hunchback. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” 

Richard does not respond. Looks intently at his desk, because if he looks at Jared he will break— something. Himself.

At length, Jared asks, “What was it you wanted to give me?” 

“Everything,” Richard says. Honest. “You deserve so much and I’m just.” He motions to himself. “I’m the one who wasn’t enough.” 

Jared gets up, walks to the other side of Richard’s desk. He crouches, to be eye-level with Richard. And his hands are on Richard’s shoulders now. And he is close. Too close. Does he still not know the effect he has on Richard? 

“Richard, I don’t understand,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Richard says. 

“For what?” 

“I should have said. When I had. When you—” 

“Should have said what?” Jared asks. And he sounds so— fucking sincere. Because he’s Jared. So of course he’s being sincere. Of course he’s only trying to help. The problem is Richard has never liked accepting help, even from himself. 

Richard inhales. Jared’s close enough to smell. Close enough to—

“I love you,” Richard says.

And the sun breaks through the clouds. Jared smiles, and he’s so bright. Almost too bright to look at. But Richard is willing to go blind.

#

Richard tries not to think about Jacqueline. Jared’s hands are on him. Roaming everywhere. He tries not think about what Jared may have done to her. What she may have done to him. Why can’t he just focus? On this. On Jared touching him. On Jared’s mouth on him. On— 

“Richard,” Jared says. 

Richard looks away from the ceiling, to Jared. To his blue, blue, blue eyes. Jared is watching him. Richard feels exposed. It makes him itchy.

“Richard, what’s wrong?” 

Richard looks away for a split second. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right again but he’s going to fuck up; he knows it. He’s going to fuck up. And Jared will regret leaving Jacqueline. For him. For Richard. Who does not deserve any of this and— 

Jared sits up. His hands are gone, and his mouth is gone, and he is still looking at Richard with those eyes. Those eyes that he swears sometimes can see right through him. Can see all the worst parts of himself that make Richard wish he weren’t— But Jared is here. He has not left. Richard is the one who left. And what if he fucks up again? 

“Richard,” Jared says again. 

Richard remembers he should say something. But he can’t say any of his current thoughts out loud.

“Sorry,” Richard says, “it’s nothing.” 

Jared tilts his head. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m— fuck.” Richard says. 

Jared blinks. 

“What if I fuck this up? Again?” 

“Oh, Richard,” Jared says. His hand find Richard’s. And his fingers find the spaces between Richard’s. “You won’t.” 

And he sounds so sure. So fucking sure. For a moment Richard almost believes him. But he knows himself. He’s not allowed to have nice things. He’s just not. He’ll find a way to sabotage this, too. And thinking about Jacqueline and Jared, while Jared’s here, with him, is a pretty good head start at fucking up. 

“I will,” he says. 

Jared shakes his head. He has always been stubborn when it comes to Richard. “No. You won’t.”

“I’m already— I can’t stop thinking about you. And— and her. While you’re—” 

Jared doesn’t let go of Richard’s hand. He squeezes his fingers lightly. His other hand finds it’s way to Richard’s hair. And then he’s kissing Richard. And there’s no universe on which he deserves this. And then his hands are on Richard’s jaw, and he’s pulling away and saying, “Look at me, Richard.”

And Richard does.

“I have thought about this every single night for the last five months.” 

Richard swallows. “Even—”

“Yes, even then.” Jared says.

Richard isn’t quite sure what to say to that. He has to look away because Jared’s eyes on his are too intense. Too blue. 

“Richard,” Jared says, “you must know that it’s always been you.”

Richard, somewhere deep down, knows this. For Jared it has always been him. But he can’t understand why. He has agonized over this before. The way he agonizes trying to find a single missed semi-colon in thousands of lines of code. Except he still hasn’t found this semi-colon. Or maybe it’s just that the problem is unsolvable. As impossible as perpetual motion.

Jared’s fingers are on Richard’s face, tracing his cheekbones, down to his lips, to his chin and his throat.

“Richard,” Jared says, soft and gentle. 

And Richard has never in his whole life loved anyone so much. And because he can say it— has said it already— he does. “I love you,” he says, “so— so much, Jared.” 

“Richard,” Jared says. He licks his lips. “Do you think, maybe, you could let me love you back this time?” 

And Richard knows he doesn’t deserve it. And maybe he’ll fuck it up again. But the way Jared is looking at him. And the way Jared’s fingers feel on his skin. And the way that he loves Jared. How can he possibly say no? So he nods, because the words floating around in his mind are too, too much to say aloud.

And Jared says, “I love you, Richard.”

And it is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> title song: [undermine - watsky ft raquel rodriguez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnkWyozyy5w)
> 
> * * *
> 
> me? spending a whole day writing this based off a slight creative impulse? more likely than you think. feel free to yell at me in the comments.


End file.
